


Medal of Honour

by Severina



Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4274763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John saves the country, he gets (another) medal. But he certainly doesn't like the ceremony. Until Matt comes along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medal of Honour

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's smallfandomfest for the prompt "stress relief".
> 
> * * *

Matt had sort of been dreading going to the whole award ceremony. Getting stuffed into an ill-fitting suit, plastering on a fake smile while a bunch of bigwigs made long-winded speeches, hobnobbing with all the society snobs.

But in actual fact, it wasn't as bad as he'd thought it would be. The suit was pretty comfortable, all things considered, and the speeches didn't drag on that long. The society snobs were as fucking annoying as expected, but the canapés and free-flowing alcohol made up for them. He hated to admit it, and he'd deny it strenuously when the Warlock asked him later, but he was almost enjoying himself.

John, however, was another matter entirely.

"I fuckin' hate this," John muttered for the fifth time.

Matt stuffed another crab roll into his mouth, surreptitiously wiped his fingers on his jacket. "It's not that bad," he said.

John gave him a look that implied he'd kicked a puppy, possibly while pissing on the American flag. "Gotta chat with the mayor like I didn't try to vote him outta office last election, gotta make nice with all the damn reporters that hang around the precinct like fuckin' vultures any other day of the week," John groused. "Gotta shake hands, gotta say the right things, and oh hey John, don't forget to _smile_." 

Matt lifted a brow and turned his attention back to the crowd milling around the banquet hall. Okay, so maybe John did have it worse, being an award recipient and all. And a public figure. And a cop. And a damn superhero. All those things would bring with them a lot of unwanted attention, while Matt himself just got to hang out and stuff himself with crab cakes and whiskey. Still, there must be something about this whole shindig that John could find to enjoy.

He turned back, lifted a finger when it came to him. "I heard that Samuel L. Jackson might show up."

John snorted. "They spread that rumour every damn time, kid. Keeps people from leaving after the ceremony."

"Oh," Matt said. He shrugged. Probably for the best. He'd only have ended up cornering the guy and trying to do his world-famous Royale With Cheese impersonation and end up getting escorted from the building, probably while shouting that it was Travolta who made that movie anyhow. "Speaking of the superfluous waste of taxpayer's money, where _is_ your medal?"

John patted his trouser pocket absently, and Matt laughed. 

"Hah, right. You just tucked it there so I could use the line later, didn't you?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"The _line_ ," Matt said. When John simply stared at him, he huffed out a breath. "You know, 'is that a medal of honour in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?' Jeez, McClane."

"You do a really bad Mae West, kid."

"Who?"

"Oh jeeeezus," John groaned.

"Cool your jets, McClane, I'm kidding. American movie icon, Broadway star, feminist, supporter of gay rights and equal rights for African Americans at a time when that was practically unheard of. Plus? Every second sentence out of her mouth was a sexual innuendo. I'm a fan."

John lips twitched, and Matt gave himself a half-point for cheering John up at least a little. "Always liked that broad," John said. "You know, Holly reminds me a little of her."

"I have _got_ to meet the ex."

"Did you know that when the owners of the apartment building she was living in wouldn't let her boyfriend come inside 'cause he was black, she just went ahead and bought the building and changed the rules?"

Matt lifted a brow. "Wow, Holly really is a badass."

"Mae West, punk."

He grinned when John elbowed him, leaned in against John's side when the other man didn't seem inclined to move. The tension that had been coiled around John had slowly ebbed away with their conversation, and while John still didn't seem inclined to snort one of the miniature quiches and start downing whiskey like John Wayne he also wasn't tugging on his collar or looking like he'd rather fight the entire Carabacci drug cartel than be in the same room with these people. Matt took his wins anyway he could get them.

"You're good for me, kid," John said.

Matt glanced up, but John was still gazing over the room, his eyes narrowed as he took in the preparations for the closing ceremony. He'd be expected to climb up to the podium to say a few words, and the cameras would flash and the reporters would shout stupid questions, and Matt fully expected to feel John's spine stiffen and see his jaw clench as he watched the mayor's aide testing the microphone. But John still felt… loose. Relaxed. The way he got just before he made fire extinguishers explode or shot himself in the shoulder.

Matt bit his lip. Maybe he should be worried about the Carabacci clan showing up.

"John?"

"Don't tell ya often enough," John said, still looking out over the room. "You made all the difference, these last few months. Gets harder, pickin' up the pieces. Might not have been able to do it without you, Matt."

"Okay, see," Matt said, holding up a hand, "you just used my name. That's how I know you're serious."

John turned to him then, and his patented smirk-smile was plainly in place. When any moment he was going to be called up and plunged back into the spotlight. Matt mentally congratulated himself as a genius. He wasn't exactly quite sure what he'd done, but whatever it was he was clearly spectacular at it.

"I love you, _Matt_ ," John said. "Even if you are a lameass hacker punk pain in my ass."

"You make me blush when you get romantic like this, John."

"Fuck off."

Matt waved him up to the stage, his own grin widening when he saw John stop and voluntarily initiate a handshake with some local politician. Yeah, he was a genius.

And sometime soon, quite possibly when he jumped John on the cab ride home, he was going to use the line. Maybe he'd even add in a little 'come on up and see me sometime.' He was sure it would be epic.


End file.
